The Path of Least Resistance
by Kzenia
Summary: Mystified by the appearance of the woman who asked her to come back to her, Emma searches everywhere only to find that she's no longer but a portrait on the wall. Is it possible to fall in love with a just a portrait to hold on to? In her search for answers and missing memories, Emma will risk everything, even to go back in time. SwanQueen.
1. Chapter 1- Somewhere in Time

DISCLAIMER: Once Upon a Time is not mine. Just borrowing most of the characters and these 2 sexy ladies for my evil needs. The song "Somewhere in Time" is not mine either. Life is unfair.

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**_As you and I are destined to be, thus we have a beginning to an end. But to fear upon the so forth end means nothing to the foundation of the start and in-between. So let's set out to the path of least resistance... to love and be loved in return. To dwell upon your love means to lighten my once dark confusing world. It's a promise of renewal, the joy of living, the peace of mind that comes from sharing and caring. And with these, let us be the alpha and the omega, my end to your beginning…._**

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**CHAPTER 1**

There in the shadows of the back row sat a lone figure of a woman. Her face is hidden and the foot light illuminated part of her features. There is something majestic by the way she sat, so proud… so regal. And from afar, Emma can feel her staring at her. She felt it the minute she walked into the garden, her vision gravitated to that lone and dark figure by the corner. For no matter how or where she diverted her gaze, the silent woman somehow commanded her to look back at her again. Though she cannot see the woman's expression, she felt her stare bear heavy on her. Emma glanced behind her to check if there was someone else she was looking at but alas, it was just an empty space and gentle breeze of the garden behind her.

Emma sighed. The silhouette reminded her of someone, somewhere but for the life of her, she can't put her finger into it. Her gut feeling is telling her she knew of this woman. And her gut feelings never failed her before.

"Who are you?" Emma whispered.

Her thoughts however were broken by the sound of the host announcing her group to the private audience.

"Ladies and gentleman, thank you for joining us tonight in this private party to celebrate the holidays. To brighten our mood for the night, may I present, the music of this classical piano quartet, invited here tonight, solely for our listening pleasure. With no further ado, the Swan Queen Quartet!"

A loud applause brought her attention from the woman at the back, reminding her the purpose of her presence in this exclusive affair. With her nod, Emma led her group up the stage and motioned them to acknowledge the applause sent their way, waving and smiling to the sea of faces that are stranger either to her or to her music group. Though private party for such social élite was never her thing, it is after all the ones that pay them quite well and help covers a few months rent. Therefore refusing such gig left no room for discussion.

Emma beckoned her group to take their positions and get this musical ensemble going for their one & a half-hour set for the night. Straightening her flowing white dress, Emma positioned herself at the piano where she will lead most of the solos. Her group, consisting of violin, a clarinet and tenor saxophone arranged the music sheets that they have readied for the night. Emma however remembered all the songs by heart and had no need for such paper clutter that usually distracts her from her music. It is a wonderful gift. As far as she can remember she played by ear and can instantly play songs that she heard for the first time. Though she was never classically trained, she can read music notes with no problem, her Swan Queen group who attended the local music school taught her how. Nonetheless, playing by ear is still her preference of choice.

Not knowing what their audience will be like for the night, her group started their chamber music for the first part, playing with classical songs from Mozart, Brahms and Beethoven, hopefully to be enjoyed and appreciated by the senior guests. Though classical music by itself is the highest form of art, to Emma anyway, they have mixed it up with some popular music that can be heard on the radio lately, to cater to the younger ones, and well….Emma must admit, so as not to be labeled as "boring" if they continue on with Beethoven all throughout the hour. Anyway, doing such mixed repertoire always gets the attention they needed and before the night is through it always got them bookings for new gigs.

As their last song for the night comes to an end, Emma glanced back to the woman at the back. She was still there, staring, at her. Only at her. Though she knew she performed exceptionally well tonight, her group had matched the same passion and dedication on giving their audience a performance they won't forget. But such special attention directed solely at her baffled Emma. And this staring from the shadow is getting creepy as the night progress. She supposed it must be her pretty white dress and her flowing blonde curls made an impact somehow. Well if that is so, then buying such expensive outfit and going to the hairdresser tonight was worth it then. She is not vain, but she was told that with her flowing blonde hair, green eyes, high cheekbones and prominent cleft chin, she is considered breath-taking. Some days she doesn't feel like one but tonight, with the dress and the make-up on, well she felt like a beauty Queen. Emma chuckled.

The sound of applause broke her chain of thoughts, realizing that their group finally finished their hour-long serenading. Their audiences were all standing up, clapping and smiling. This kind of warm appreciation, for artists such as themselves, melts their heart. It never failed to make Emma feel mushy from the inside and her heart swelled with pride, for tonight, she and her team created magic once again.

Emma glanced back to the mysterious woman, by now, the lights of the moon have moved and it shone just about the right side of her face. From where she stood she can see the silhouette of a striking feature, her face against the moon created such mystical glow.

"Do I know you?" Emma pondered.

For some inane reason, she felt the need to play another song. She wanted to play for HER. The woman of the shadow, as Emma began to call her. The compulsion was too strong to resist and before she knew it, she acted upon the need.

"Just one more song…" Emma glanced at Rachel who played the clarinet and was startled when she heard Emma's whispered confession.

"What? We didn't practice an extra song, Emma " Rachel, whispered back.

"That's OK, I'll do a solo, you guys can take a rest now" she assured.

"Sure about that?"

"Yeah, just something I feel that I need to do Rachel" Emma nodded.

"OK, it's your stage then girl!" Rachel squeezed her hand and blew her a kiss.

Emma took to the center of the stage and look upon their newfound fans "Thank you so much for such warm appreciation. It is our intent to bring you harmless relaxation while we serenade you with the beauty of our music. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are the Swan Queen Quartet" The group bowed a few times and took their leave, except for Emma.

"Though our time has finally come to an end, I would like to offer you one last song for the night, if you so permits it?" Emma smiled and waited for her audience to react. They were all clapping, nodding and some are even…cat calling? Emma stifled a laugh and supposed that they do want it then. Smiling, she took another curtsy and seated herself upon her grand piano. She positioned her slender fingers above the keys but before that, she risked another look at her mysterious friend. And yes, she was still there. In the shadow, at the back, staring. Taking a deep breath, she glanced back at her audience, smiled and started to play.

She chose to play a piece she called "Somewhere In Time". It is a beautiful haunting melody that she heard and learned since…forever. She kept hearing it in her mind, in heart and she hummed it even in sleep. The moment she got hold of a piano, she started playing it, all the notes and rhythm imprinted on her heart. Nobody claimed to have heard of it and copyrights infringement had never been demanded of her when she kept playing and recording the song. So as time moved forward, the song became her. It appeared beyond doubt that this music was so united with her being that she cannot be free from it even if she so desired. And as the years went by, she came up with beautiful lyrics to this evocative melody.

Emma was on her own little world when she plays the piano, especially when the rhythm of this special song engulfs her whole being. For each moment she spent with this song, she was transported to a special place, a dimension that only she can relate upon. In this fantastical land, just beyond the meadow, a long stretch of road that led to a place she believed to be of importance to her life. And in the middle of that road, her love awaits with outstretched hands, reaching for her. Yes, indeed…her love stands waiting, patient and true.

It was always the same images, the same surroundings, and the same lover's lair. In this magical place, she recalled everything, every colors and every scent. Everything was vivid. Except that for each time that she arrived there, she cannot make out the face of her lover. It's not that he or she doesn't have a face, it's just that Emma cannot see a face or remember a single feature. Even though her lover is faceless, she knew from the purple glow that emitted from her lover's body, she was truly loved.

Is it déjà vu? Or has she created this love and glorious land in her moments of make-believe? Thus imprinting it on her mind and believed it to be true? She often wondered how and why. Was it a powerful dreamscape or a beautiful nightmare? She cannot tell the difference and somehow, it never failed to evoke emotions of sorrow and regret.

In the still of the night, her melancholy melody sung out like a lone wolf crying out to the moon. After playing a few verses, Emma began to sing. Her voice was sweet and pure; it floated in the air, across the garden and into the heart of her audience. She was reaching out and conveying the emotions that she locked from within. She played and sang the one song that she knew for like…forever and a day.

"_Somewhere in time , we met on timeless hills_

_And in the evening mist we kissed and time stood still_

_Before the dawn, we found forever_

_Moments are timeless when I feel your caress"_

Emma sought the eyes of the mysterious woman. From the darkness that surrounded her she can only make out a silhouette of a lonesome form. As the moon shined partly in her face, Emma can almost feel her unshed tears.

It was then that Emma knew, that somehow, this song was of… her. Of them.

"_Love never goes… once it has touched your heart_

_Just like the strength of wine that's left as two lips part_

_A taste of love will linger after I know the meaning of all that I see_

_You'll always be inside of me , And I know when love is true_

_It's always with you_

_Somewhere in time, I came to realize_

_Love never goes"_

With the enchanting melody and Emma's mesmerizing voice, one can feel the sadness of the music that slowly seeps into the body and spread to one's soul. It was an honest declaration of sorrow, and of unrequited love. Emma was pouring her soul into the song, bereft of all pride.

Emma's slender fingers runs through the ivory with such powerful strokes, she poured raw emotions upon the keys for the world to see, before letting the last few verses of the music comes to a soft end. As the last of the notes dies down, Emma's tears started to run down the contours of her cheeks. She let it flow and took a moment to collect herself.

There was a few moment of absolute silence in the garden, as the audience soaked the beauty of the piece. How can one comes out OK after that? Nonetheless, the room exploded with applause, some women were dabbing at the corners of their eyes. A few men threw flowers at her feet, while some are actually trying to hold back their own tears.

Emma took a deep breath and finally looked up to glimpse upon the woman of the shadow, the same woman whose mere presence rattled the core of her being. But she was no longer there. With this, Emma felt chills run down her spine. She felt a sense of loss and foreboding. Emma looked around the garden trying to find her but to no avail.

"How can she not stay?" she murmured.

Realizing that she stayed on the stage for far too long, she took her leave, picked out a few flowers and mouthed "thank you" to her appreciative audience. She descended the stage and moved to meet her friends.

"Emma, my love, that was excellent" a tall dark man, about a few years Emma's senior approached her side. "That was the most emotional and heart wrenching version of that song that I heard you played to date"

"Thank you, Mark. You don't know how much that means to me"

"What happened? Did you just got heart-broken or something these last days that I don't know about?" Mark swooped in, lifted Emma off her feet and gave Emma a kiss on both cheeks. He was the one who got them this gig. Owning an art gallery, he got connections with these socialites, most of whom are his customers.

"I don't know" Emma laughed "tonight for some reason, something felt good! And sad. Oh you know…just something!"

"No, I don't know. But whatever it is, it made you awesome!" as he gently set her down.

The rest of the quartet came to swarm around Emma and congratulated her. Though they've heard the song before, it was the first time they saw such emotions from the woman.

"Girl, I'm telling you, after that masterpiece you pulled out there, those sleazy men in the corner is out to get yah!" Rachel said after giving Emma a big hug.

"So be warned" Richard, their saxophonist added as he patted Emma on the shoulder.

Emma looked around to glimpse at the said group and in so doing, catched a lone figure in the shadow. She gasped. It's HER. She's still here. The woman is now standing, still in shadow and again…staring. Emma's heart started pounding in nervous surprise; she immediately turned back to her friends, pretending to have not seen her. But Emma knew she's coming, she felt her stare bore down her back.

The woman slowly advanced and had not taken her eyes off of her. Emma's mounting awareness was discomfiting. Suddenly uncomfortable, Emma tried to start a new subject to interest her friends. However, they were all staring at the haunting face of the woman, who slowly approached their group. She moved with graceful elegance that exudes class and style. Her stare, intent upon Emma.

She paused just behind Emma and reached out an old, fragile hand to touch her shoulder. Emma had anticipated it and upon the light touch turned around and gazed upon the woman who haunted her night. Seen in full light, she saw her stalking shadow gazing up at her. An inch or two smaller, Emma stared back at her faded brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears, obviously in the state of turmoil. Given her advanced age, the woman stood tall, demanding the group to her attention despite her dainty height. Her rich healthy greying hair pulled up into a sleek chignon. Her skin glowed with gentle lines that show more wisdom than age, taking in all that she saw while revealing nothing. The woman seemed to command her soul, eyes sparkling with secrets, searching for recognition.

Emma was pulled in by the presence of her, the power of her unspoken words, conveying a message that she cannot comprehend. It took her breath away and in defense for such unknown feelings, she took a few steps back, away from the old woman. At this point Emma was confused and don't know what to do nor what to say.

Nobody else knew what to say either.

Emma gasped when the woman lifted her arms, hands outstretched, reaching out for her.

This looks oddly familiar…

Emma instinctively responded to her call, her left hand reached out on its own accord. The woman smiled at Emma's acknowledgement, though sadness was apparent in her eyes. The woman took her hand and pressed something into it, closed it firmly with both of her hands. For a few moments, she stood still staring at her closed palms, her own hands wrapped around Emma's. Then she brought both their hands to her lips and kissed them with closed eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Afterwards, she looked back at Emma, brown eyes searching the confused green ones, and then she leans over and whispered in Emma's ears.

"You remembered our song, it is **YOU**" Her voice shaking, traumatized. She leaned once more and whispered her last words.

"**_Emma, come back to me"_**

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**A/N: **This work has not been beta'd, so apologies for any grammar mistake as English is not my first language. Please review and help me improve.


	2. Chapter 2- Prelude to a Destiny

**DISCLAIMER:** Once Upon a Time is not mine (if only I can buy ABC right now) Just borrowing most of their characters and these 2 sexy ladies for my evil needs. Somewhere in Time is obviously not mine either and this story was inspired by this movie.

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_Prelude to a Destiny…there are things in life that are inevitable and we are powerless to control them. It would be crazy to even try. The weather will change from the scorching heat of summer to the coldest nights of winter, the sun will rise to the eager arms of the sunflower, as it waits for it to set…we witness the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a proud and magnificent butterfly. It's a commencement to an endless cycle...somehow I feel reassured by this, as many things in life are momentary...transient._

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**CHAPTER 2**

"The hell was that about?" Rachel inquired as she gawked at the woman.

Emma didn't answer but rather stared at the departing woman. She wanted to follow her and ask questions but she remained rooted at her spot. She can't even fucking move. The old woman's actions puzzled her, let alone her mysterious words.

"Come back to me" she said and she whispered it like they were lovers. The longing in her eyes demands for recognition but Emma cannot place her anywhere. She feels connected but for the life of her, she is at a loss and do not understand what's happening.

"Hey Emma, are you OK?" Mark snapped his fingers a few times to catch Emma's attention back to the group. "Did you know her?"

"No, I never saw her before, not in my lifetime" Emma answered, catched her breath as her heartbeats didn't seem to want to slow down.

"Wow, Emma. I know how hot you are, and pretty sure men and women falls at your feet but this, is taking it to a new level?" Mark laughed, as he tried to make light of the situation, he was baffled by Emma's reaction to the woman though. By the look of things, the girl seemed on the verge of crying.

"Even old ladies are after you Emma? Come, tell us the secret!" Rachel teased, playfully jabbing a finger in her forearm.

Emma forced a smile and returned her attention back to the group but her eyes kept glancing back at the departing figure.

"And what did she gave you? ooh, please do share!" Rachel reached out her palm.

Emma stared at her fist for a few moments. She had forgotten about it and hadn't realized that she was holding it tightly, nails digging deep in her palm. She relaxed her hold for a bit and remembered the way the woman kissed those closed fingers…at her sudden touch, she felt something glowed within her, but at her soft, gentle kiss, she felt something magical. Her heartbeat started to slam against her ribcage yet again, dictating her inability to breathe.

"Is it possible to feel that you have been found, when you know that you're not lost?" She pondered. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her shaking fingers, eager to know what's inside but afraid to find out.

And everyone leaned over in anticipation.

It was a ring…of some sort. Made of vintage silver and had a gentle twist design. The ring looked and felt like an eternity band but it has neither gems nor engravings on it. At a glance, it was very modest to look at and quite ordinary but something about it seemed strangely… enchanting. When Emma brought it up for closer inspection she saw it pulsed and glimmered in purple.

Emma was startled by the sudden glow and in reflex closed her fist to hide it and brought it to her chest. She glanced around her friends to ask, chest heaving. They were all staring at her fist, obviously unimpressed, but definitely mystified as to why such an ordinary trinket was so important to pass on to Emma. They looked back at Emma, eyes questioning with silent mirth. They seemed to be unaware of the purple flash that she just witnessed.

"Did you saw that?" Emma asked

"Saw what?"

"The glow? For a moment, the ring glowed…in purple?"

"Glowed? Nah, you must have seen my dress reflecting in your ring. It's pretty shiny" Rachel said, "Hmm, and that doesn't look expensive is it?" she shrugged and said "Wonder why she gave you that?"

"Yeah, that makes the two of us" Emma whispered.

For the nth time that night, Emma was loss for words. She stared back at the ring, glanced back at the door where the old woman went through and just stood there wondering, gripped by a sense of something inexplicable.

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"Where to now Madam?" The chauffeur asked while he assisted his mistress to sit comfortably at the back of the Mercedes-Benz. When he fetched her by the main door, he saw that she was troubled. He felt her shaking and her hands were unusually cold when he assisted her weakening body to the car. She seemed to be in a hurry to leave for her steps are light and quicker than normal.

"Home" she said. Her voice strained. He stared at her again, and he saw that there were tear marks on her cheeks.

"Of course, madam" Robert said and remained silent upon seeing her in distress.

She was particularly cheerful when he dropped her off for the party tonight. He has no idea what has happened over there but as he observed her in the rearview mirror, she had this expression one could not easily make out, happiness? Sadness? He just can't put his finger to it. The vein in her forehead was more visible now than ever and she just sat there motionless, lost in deep thoughts.

Since the woman didn't bothered to say anything more, Robert was hesitant to strike up a conversation. However the loud silence in the car was making him uncomfortable. Though it's true that his boss is not usually cheerful or talkative in nature, she always did managed to ask him of his welfare, as to what he did while he waited for her or at the very least, offers him a genuine smile.

But tonight, something's different. He cast her another look, saw that she's staring outside, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Not knowing what else to do, he sighed and concentrated on driving them home safe.

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Her thoughts were distracted by the sound of Robert's voice. "Ma'am, we are approaching home and I'll get you there in less than 5 minutes"

She glanced up and met his stare at the rear view mirror. She smiled at him with a nod and looked back outside, finally acknowledging the familiar road that led to her hometown. She did not know how long she was lost in her thoughts and was grateful that the ride home was finally coming to an end. Ahead, she saw the historical sign that stood proud after all these years.

**WELCOME TO STORYBROOKE**

A few minutes more and the car parked at the entrance of a white impressive mansion that belongs to the former Mayor of the small town. There was a stone path that led to the front porch and the garden surrounding it was immaculate. The house was normally brightly lit but tonight, a few corner lights had been turned on, giving the house a slight gloomy look.

Robert quickly moved out, opened the door for his mistress, and offered his arms to support her on the short walk to the front. She managed a smile, accepted his help as they moved towards the porch.

"Thank you my dear boy, I'm so sorry I kept you out so late and away from your family tonight." She smiled and reached out to cup his cheek. "You were always, ever so kind and gentle to me…thank you."

"What's all this about?" Robert smiled and put his hands on the old woman's arms. "You know that it's always been a pleasure…and tonight is no different" He stared intently at her and saw sadness in her eyes.

"If it matter's that much to you, then you are most welcome. Now off you go and take that rest Madam. Seems like that party has zapped the energy out of you." Robert bobbed his head, pointing at the door. "I'll come again tomorrow, yes?"

She smiled and nodded, cupped his face once more and disappeared inside the house. Robert watched her enter the house, a worried frown on his face…a sense of foreboding and fear hit upon him as he stared.

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A she moved slowly toward her study, she noticed a body on the couch by the sitting room. She paused and stared at her, eyes shut, already in her nightgown and wearing a robe, obviously waiting for her. Her blonde curls fell softly just below her neck and her hand, still in the crevice of the book she's obviously been reading.

Her ever so faithful companion, after all these years, she hadn't left her side. Through thick or thin, she stood by her, defended her, and most of all, believed in her. She sighed, maybe after tonight she can move on with a new life.

She moved closer to her, stooped down and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. When she lifted her lips, she was startled to see her questioning blue eyes, searching her deep brown ones.

"Hey you" Tink smiled "Was it any good?" She reached out and patted the woman's forearm.

She smiled, cupped her chin and nodded. She didn't spoke a single word but just stared lovingly at the woman before her. After a moment she moved and went to her study. Tink started to speak to know more about the night but as the door to the study opened and closed, she heard her locked the door too. She immediately put aside the book and followed.

"Are you all right?" Tink quickly asked but when she's about to ask again, she heard music starting to play inside. She listened curiously and recognized the haunting, sweet melody.

Tink sighed in understanding…when she is sad and reminiscing, she plays **_that_** song. And when she does she's lost in a world she know not where. She knows how this goes though, in due time, she will come out again but not a moment too soon. Apparently, tonight is going to be one of those long nights so she retreated, went back to the couch to resume her reading.

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She poured herself a glass of apple cider and sat herself down in the rocking chair by the window. As she stared into the starless night, she let the music engulfed her once more. This time, the sound was coming out from the music box she had Guipeto made for her. It's a wind-up music box made of mahogany and once opened, an image of a white swan pops out and starts to twirl. The notes exactly as Emma had played it tonight. She cradled the music box in her palms, and stared intently upon the swan…

_Emma remembered their song._

When she impulsively played it tonight, it was the sign that she prayed for to confirm that it was indeed her Emma. And that her presence, even in the shadow had unconsciously reminded Emma of the feelings of what they once were…from another time and another place.

_They will always be connected._

At first unsure of the vision before her, thinking she was the usual dream that her heart makes but as she stared intently, even with her old tired eyes, it became clear that it was indeed her. The same long thick hair sans her usual braid, the same excited smile that lit up her face and expressive green eyes that shone in appreciation to the crowd that gathered before her. Tried as she must, she cannot look away. She was truly grateful for the shadow that hid her tonight, for without it, she won't have the luxury of memorizing Emma's youthful grace once again. Her every moves and glances imprinted on her heart. So stared …she must. Silently compelling Emma to acknowledge her existence.

She sighed and stared back at the music box…

She remembered how her heart broke when Emma silently cried while she sang and played their song. Though the music and the melody was not new to her, the words that Emma wrote and added was an homage to what their love were once before. It was a message of longing, of fate and destiny, and of hope. It took all her will power not to get up and gather her in her arms…to comfort her and assure her that everything will be all right. For it was hard for her to witness yet again on the love that they've lost.

She continued to rock, back and forth she goes…she sought comfort from the velvety darkness of the night, appreciating the peace that she so desired.

Leaving Emma tonight was the hardest thing to do. It took her back to the time Emma left her. The feeling was once again renewed and she couldn't breathe. She was taken from her so suddenly, without proper goodbyes and she cannot find the words adequate enough to describe the loss.

But this time, she was the one leaving, a conscious effort on her part. For what could she do? It's not like she expected her to recognize her, to run back to her arms and to declare her undying love? She moaned. NO, of course not. Not with her old, aging body. Not with the tired lines around her face. Not with unsure and trembling voice. Not with Emma's confused and questioning eyes before her. No, she cannot provide the answers, the why's and the wherefores. Even if her heart willed her to stay, her mind reminded her that she had to leave and let things come together on their own. Emma has to come back to her on her own free will, instinct and love. It was written on their fate, it was destined to be.

"Back to where her love and mine has a happy ending" she whispered. As to when, she does not know but somewhere in time, they will be together once again.

"_I was once someone else and now I am someone new."_ She recalled what Emma told her when she met her the first time…by the meadow.

"Oh Emma, how true but we are both" She let out a tired sigh. In those short moments of seeing Emma again, the feel of her touch, the smile upon her youthful gaze, she found inner peace.

As she rocks, the music continues to play. The look of trauma and sadness on her face has departed by now and was being replaced by an expression of acceptance.

Of letting go…

She rocked her chair, closed her eyes and smiled as she let the music consumed her being. It is time.

Back and forth she goes, back and forth. And abruptly, they stop.

As the music came to an end, Regina Mills expelled one last breath and the hand that holds the music box …fell lifeless on her side.

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**A/N:** Not beta'd. Thank you for the views, reviews, faves and follows. Appreciate it so much guys, thank you. Sorry it took me a while to update, much to my surprise, life is actually ruining my SQ obsession. I will try my best to make this story works. Please review.


	3. Chapter 3- Pygmalion and Galatea

**DISCLAIMER:** Once Upon a Time is not mine (if only...) Just borrowing most of their characters and my OTP for my evil needs.

**Warning:** Not beta'd and English is not my first language. So pardon the grammar and all.

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**_"O maiden, in mine image made! O grace that shouldst endure!_**

**_While temples fall, and empires fade, Immaculately pure:_**

**_Exchange this endless life of art for beauty that must die,_**

**_And blossom with a beating heart into mortality!_**

**_Change, golden tresses of her hair, to gold that turns to gray;_**

**_Change, silent lips, forever fair, to lips that have their day!_**

**_Oh, perfect arms, grow soft with life, wax warm, ere cold ye wane;_**

**_Wake, woman's heart, from peace to strife, to love, to joy, to pain!"_**

**_- Andrew Lang (1911) From "The New Pygmalion or the Statues Choice"_**

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**CHAPTER 3**

"OK, I'm here so let's get the ball rolling" Emma burst through the door of the gallery carrying a tray that holds cups of steaming coffee in one hand and bags of sandwiches in the other.

"As requested Sir, venti americano, 2/3 water, 1/3-non-fat milk and fake sugar to go! All mixed with love!" she grinned as she set it down on Mark's table, carefully avoiding the clutter of paper works.

"Merci, mon ange!" blowing Emma a kiss. "As always you're a life saver"

Mark stood up from his chair, he picked up a bunch of paper in front of him and deposited it in Emma's lap, grinning.

"So how do we do this?" Emma laughed; she knew exactly what she's supposed to do. It seems like cataloging and running through paper works will be her assignment, again, for the day.

"I need you to seep through this mumbo-jumbo and get it in some working order? You're the only one who can make it work so you know what to do!" Mark exclaimed

"Okie dokie, boss" She beamed him up a wide grin and waved him away.

Mark's shop, the Alpha & Omega Galleria specializes in classical and modern European fine arts, with exquisite collections of paintings, Murano glasses, sculptures and Capodimonte porcelain. The gallery is well-known in catering personalized services to Boston's private estates (aka the élite) as well as to corporate environments. She was quite impressed by the way Mark has established this business despite the downturn in the economy lately. She supposed money was of no object when it comes to art.

This is the time of the year that Mark showcases exquisite collections from all over the country. Some collectors sends in their prized family heirlooms or investment pieces, either for sale or just simply to share it for the world to appreciate. His place is not huge in comparison to those well-known ones in Newbury or Berkeley streets. But he invested on a 4-room gallery with hallways intersecting each other and spaced out well enough to accommodate 50 or more viewing customers.

It's also the time of the year that Mark needs extra hands, so Emma took it upon herself to free up her schedule and help her friend out. She's usually in charge of cataloging incoming shipments, invoices, addresses and encodes them in the computer system while Mark supervised the real hard work, setting up precious art work in their proper places.

They worked in relative silence and left each other alone, focusing on their respective tasks, and would occasionally bother each other for bits of inquiries here and there. And before they knew it, half of the day had gone by.

She picked up her bag and shouted at Mark who was busy at the back.

"Hey Mark, I need to run back to the apartment for a bit. Be back soon ok?"

"No problem, kiddo" Mark shouted back.

"And you should eat something boss" Emma chuckled and hurried outside.

Mark dropped what he's doing and run to the front in order to throw Emma a kiss before she leaves but she's already out and had her back at him. Mark's gallery is located just across the street from Emma's apartment anyway so he can just go there and drag her out if she bails out on him for the rest of the day.

He stared at her cheerfully as she crossed the street, took the cold sandwich out and followed her friend's advice.

"Ah Emma" He sighed her name with such endearment and watched the white-shirted, denim-clad young woman crossed the street. She was wearing exactly the same outfit when he met her the first time. Mark smiled as he remembered back then…

Since they're practically neighbors, she passed by his gallery each time she went out of her apartment. And each time, she will stop by and admire the artwork that he displays in the front window. Mark at first didn't paid attention to Emma, since he's used to people stopping by to admire the art pieces he shared to the public and of course, hoping that at least some of them will be interested enough to check out the rest of his collections. But it was Emma who often stopped by and stayed longer, staring intently at whatever art he has on display, as if memorizing every minute details. Most time though he caught her with blank stares, mind obviously somewhere else.

After a few visits, Mark has become accustomed to her face and he will just observe her from inside his shop and admire her beautiful face and youthful elegance. The time came when Emma noticed him staring and since then, Emma will seek him out in acknowledgement and they will casually share a smile or a nod, before she went on her way. Curiosity got the better of him and so he waited for her one day, introduced himself to the young woman, and invited her into his special abode. Proudly showing off the rest of the artwork he's showcasing. He also came to know then that Emma is no expert to fine arts but as a musician and an old soul, art appreciation apparently was inherent in her soul.

Since that fateful day, they became good friends and he treated her like the sister he never had. They will usually meet and take their coffee from across the street, spend some idle moments together in his gallery or simply go out and watch the latest flick. Whenever she's feeling down or sickly, he will make sure to be there for her, even just to hold her hands.

They became such good friends, that in time, she became his "person" and she, his.

Emma was quite the loner, though not reclusive nor shy. He supposed it's the way she was nurtured. He found out Emma had been orphaned since birth and that she was adopted by a childless couple, living in the suburbs of Boston. The Swan family lived a comfortable life, with her father sustaining the family's needs with his construction business. And her mother would work part-time as a librarian in the public library. The couple was quite the introvert and never did much social mingling except for the occasional visit to the local church congregation. Emma came to the couple as a blessing and an answered prayer. Being an only child, she became the center of their world and therefore, grew up quite sheltered, very much-loved and pampered. He also later known that Emma was home-schooled by her parents for they were quite unhappy with the way the school system worked.

Emma of course dreamt of higher education, of having her own college degree and her parents were ecstatic to know this, for they wanted the same thing for her. They encouraged her to take a course after her own heart and were quite surprised, when she expressed her intention to take up Criminology and pursue a career in the law enforcement. So they encouraged her to follow this goal in life.

Knowing that their child will have to leave their home when the time comes, they have decided to procure an apartment in Boston near the university she wanted to go to, it's a small flat but big enough to accommodate them should they come visiting. This purchase will also become the big 18th birthday present to Emma, so on the eve of her birthday, they drove up to Boston to decorate the place up and to give her the best surprise of her life.

But they never came back…alive.

Definitely the best surprise ever no girl or daughter would asked for. Her parents, having avoided a head-on car collision with a drunk driver, fell on a ditch and lost their lives on their way back home. Leaving Emma alone in the world.

On her 18th birthday, the grief-stricken Emma Swan spent the first day of adulthood, arranging a double funeral.

In the next few weeks that followed, she took care of her parent's estate, sold their house and paid off their debts. She used the educational fund that her parents set aside for her to refund the money back to her father's clientèle, for most of the contracts has been cancelled or transferred to another firm. She went through all these important practical arrangements with a sense of emotional numbness. Then she took what was left of the money, packed her bags, moved to Boston and lived within her means in the apartment that her parents bought for her. Her life dreams, temporarily on hold.

Mark met her a few weeks after that and he now understood as to where those blank-stare moments were coming from. He understood that being alone in this world was of no laughing matter and since then, he had taken it upon himself to look out for his friend, his paternal instinct on guard. As he got to know her better, the more he learned the inner beauty that was Emma Swan. She's gentle, kind and one badass life fighter.

"I know I'm _not_ much but I also know I'm _enough_. And if I continue to allow myself the courage to march forward there is no doubt that I can make it through, no matter what life throws at me." Emma told him these words once, in her moment of grief.

Yes, in her moment of grief. For others, handling this kind of sorrow simply meant giving up on the world but Emma had spoken these words on her moment of heartache and pain. His respect for this young woman with an incredible courage had exponentially grown. From that day forward, he not only swore to be his friend but his champion, should Emma need it.

With a sigh and a smile, he glimpsed once more at the now empty street and focus back on finishing his lunch.

* * *

Emma came back to work just after Mark had left, to run an errand in the bank before it closes. As there are things she needed to discuss with him before she proceeds with her cataloging, she took the time to survey the gallery and admire the art pieces they've already installed.

Emma went through the art line-up this month, enjoying every bits of it, going in and out of hallways. She's quite used to the gallery lay out by now and know her ins and out. Though sometime Mark will make some changes, he'll put some bit and pieces protruding the wall and often changes the colors of the lighting, to give special effects to showcased piece.

Having reached the last hallway, Emma stared at the last artwork at the far end of the wall, it's an acrylic painting encased in glass. She wondered why this was so because most of the paintings that she saw earlier was unenclosed and open for closer scrutiny.

Dismissing her inquiry, she focused back at the beautiful image of a Querubin. The bubbly winged child was clothed in the usual angelic garbs and he's floating of course in mid-air, surrounded by flowers and clouds. His eyes were staring at her with silent mirth, his smile mischievous, as if keeping an amusing secret from her. Emma cannot help but reciprocate the contagious smile while she admired the rest of the artwork. She looked down at the bottom of the painting and it says "Cupido"

"Of course you're Cupid, who else?" Emma chuckled "the God of Love and Desire"

She brought her eyes back to the cherub and followed to where he was pointing. When Emma's eyes rested at the end of the pointed arrow, the glare of the sun reflected from the glass and she squinted, momentarily averting her eyes from the shine. She brought her hands up to block the glare out of the painting and re-adjusted her vision, but alas, the child seemed to be pointing at nothing.

She tried to re-focus at the obstructed area but what she saw instead was the reflection of another framed painting, illuminated by the sunlight. Emma stared closely at the reflection, gasped in surprise and abruptly turned around.

Adjacent to where she's at, behind a glass partition at the corner of the wall, a door was slightly ajar. It's not open enough for people to take notice but wide enough for her to see a frame from behind the door. And within it hangs a portrait, brightened mysteriously by the rays of the bright sun. The same light that reflected from the end of Cupid's arrow. She can see it to be a portrait but cannot make out the image as the sunlight's illuminations obstructed her vision once more. She brought her hand up to block the glare of the sun off her eyes.

Drawn to the portrait as though entranced, Emma walked carefully into the room, her vision's slowly adjusting to the glare, and suddenly she froze, staring at the mystic revelation before her.

Indeed, it's a portrait of a young woman, half-length from head to waist, apparently painted by oil on white canvas and like Cupid, she's also enclosed in a glass frame. The whole image was drawn in varying shades of ochre and white, illuminating the woman in ethereal beauty.

Totally spellbound, Emma gaped.

She got thick, dark gentle curls that fell on both side of her face, covering part of her long neck. Though her face was looking down, her deep brown eyes however are peering intently at her painter. Her full red lips turned slightly up at the corners in a smile that reaches her youthful gaze, seemingly sharing an intimate secret with the artist.

Emma's eyes involuntarily slid over her body, which was facing forward. Her body was covered with gauzy veil, and half of it has fallen off her shoulder revealing a supple breast, her nipple hardened probably by the mild exposure or possibly, the way her artist stared at her. She had her hands loosely folded in front of her navel, and a single, long-stemmed red rose tucked between intertwined and delicate fingers.

She cannot figure out from what era this picture was, for its one of those timeless masterpiece.

Emma was fascinated by the way the light fell on her curved surfaces. The luminescence of her skin, the glow of her face, for they were created with transparent colors. The artist delicately created an imperceptible transitions between light and shade, the colors were blended without borders in a smoke-like manner, and the brush strokes are so subtly done that it seems to be invisible to the naked eye.

Emma inhaled deeply; she just realized that she was holding her breath and that her heart is pounding mercilessly against her ribcage. The unearthly vision before her, evoked emotions that she cannot comprehend. There was something intimate the way this painting was drawn, a shared secret between the artist and the muse.

At this realization, she immediately searched if the portrait was signed. And alas, at the bottom of the painting, just beneath his muse's hand, she saw two letters. W.S.

She took another breath to steady herself. The realism of this painting is beyond belief.

And for the life of her, she cannot explain the one thing that was so striking about this portrait that kept her staring. Was it her lips that smiled or her eyes that shone? Emma swore that if she looked more closely at the pit of her throat, she would see that the pulses are beating. She supposed that with the colors, the intricacies of the strokes, and the fine attention to details, the artist created a cohesion that was very rare in a painting, thus making her come to life.

Emma stared on captivated.

* * *

Realizing that she was in the room for far too long, Emma tore herself away from the portrait and searched Mark out. He surely must have arrived by now.

"Hey Mark, why is she hiding at the back?" she asked upon seeing him at the end of the hallway.

"I'm hiding who?" Mark stopped what he's doing and glanced at Emma's approaching figure. "I got a woman in there?"

Emma laughed, "That portrait of a woman you hanged at the storage room?"

"Ahhh!" Mark exclaimed in understanding. "She's such a beauty isn't it?"

"Beauty is an understatement. She's exquisite! And she doesn't belong there. Why is she not part of those displayed?"

"Well, I want to. It'll be such a waste if I don't but I don't know the name of the artist or the title of the painting. There was no description with it and I need to label it properly before I can showcase her though."

"I probably have her papers, would you like some help with that?"

"NO you don't or not yet. I gave you the first batch of the bunch. I'm still sorting through some paper works for the others and some are coming in tonight."

"I see. Any idea where she came from?" Emma asked, gaze fixed on Mark's.

"Well, there was a bunch of stuff that came from a pawnshop in Maine" He explained. "All of them labeled properly except for this one"

"Hmmm, I wonder why. Can you not display her here anyway?"

"I could but if someone asks about it, I wouldn't know what to say. But yeah, I'll give the guy a call later or tomorrow to ask about it"

Emma nodded and stared back at the now closed-door, deep in thought.

"Hey Em, did you get to finished the first bunch I gave you this morning?" Mark asked changing the subject.

"Yes, and speaking of that I just need to check with you on some stuff?" Emma said and her mind momentarily was distracted from the painting.

As the two of them proceeded to run through their tasks, Mark didn't fail to notice that Emma kept going back to the storage room all throughout the afternoon and into the early evening. At one time, he would see her totally engrossed in what she's doing, then suddenly, she will get up and work her way back to the storage room, spent a few minutes over there and then she will go back to resume her work. He saw this happened a few times.

But mostly though, he caught her sitting at the table, staring into her thoughts. He wondered what's so fascinating about the portrait at the storage room that her dear friend seemed so restless about it?

And Mark, has never seen her this restless since the night the old woman came to her with the ring. Trying to distract her friend's chain of thoughts, Mark brought back the infamous subject of 3 weeks back.

"Em?" Mark whispered

Emma hearing Mark's call lifted her head and smiled "Hmmm?"

"I mean to ask you but I got so busy lately, did you ever get to find out about that old woman at the party? The one that gave you those ring?" Mark pointed at the necklace Emma was wearing.

Emma instinctively reached for it and unconsciously traced the round silver with her fingers. When the old woman gave it to her that night, she didn't have the heart to hide it away. She thought of wearing the ring but instead, she made a necklace out of it. For some unknown reason, she wanted it near her heart. And Emma doesn't argue with "unknown reasons". She just goes with the flow and feels what she feels.

There was something so mysterious about that encounter that left her restless for a good week. It left Emma with a sense of foreboding, a deep sense of loss and sadness.

3-weeks later, the image of a tear-stained face of the old woman was still vivid and imprinted on her mind. And 3 weeks later, her futile attempt of finding her was at a loss, never even finding the name of her "woman of the shadow." Emma was stuck, on a dead-end.

"No." she sadly confessed, "No one seems to know of her. I was able to get a copy of the guest list and most of them are listed, so I gave them all a call, I even paid a visit to some of them and no one, as in not one, confirmed to have known her or of her."

"Really?" Mark asked in surprised "But they've seen her right? There's like 5 of us who can testify to that!"

Emma laughed at Mark's implication "No, she's not a ghost" Emma rolled her eyes "and yes, a few people remembers her being there aside from us"

"OK, that's a relief! But wow, what a mystery!" Mark groaned

"I know right? I'll forever be mystified by that encounter. I actually don't have any idea what to make of it. None at all. I got so many questions, and apparently, I won't be getting any answer anytime soon."

"Are you still looking for her?"

"Yes! I won't be able to shake this feeling off until I find her. I'm not giving up. I know I'll find her, maybe not too soon but I will. You know me, Mark"

"Indeed I do, Emma Swan" Mark shook his head. He knew pretty well that If Emma sets her mind onto something, she get things done. By hook or by crook, things gets done.

"Your quest doesn't seem to be life threatening so I'll let this go. But if you need me, you know you can just let me know right?"

Emma nodded and smiled, she stood up from her desk, moved over to where Mark's at and gave him a big hug.

"Yes. And thank you so damn much" she said with a grin.

* * *

The restlessness came as soon as she went home for the night.

Emma, wanting to stay a bit more to help but Mark encouraged her to go and rest as there will be more work waiting for them tomorrow. He, on the other hand still needed to wait for some new deliveries that will come through that night. So Emma said her goodbye and told Mark to call her if he needed her for anything.

Emma tried to shake herself out of thinking about the painting, but to no avail. She turned the TV on, hoping to distract her train of thoughts but after a few minutes of channel surfing, she gave up and threw the remote control at the couch.

She attempted to eat and prepared herself TV dinner but she ended up sitting at the corner, scarcely touching her food and found herself staring into her thoughts, once again. She sighed in frustrations; she might as well give up on these pretensions of trying to break free from her thoughts.

She stood up and went over to her window, stared down at the gallery from across the street. There was something about that portrait that felt familiar…she evoked something meaningful to her senses that was indescribable.

"_Un je ne sais quoi.."_ she whispered. Her gaze intent upon the gallery.

Finally succumbing to the impulse, she put her jacket on, grabbed her apartment keys and took her sorry ass back to the object of her obsession.

"Mark? You still here?" she opened the door, shouted as soon as she came in.

The gallery was still open but she saw no people around. Some lights were still turned on at some areas of the gallery though so Mark must have been receiving the deliveries he said he'll wait upon tonight.

So she didn't bothered to look for him and just went straight to the storage room.

* * *

A few minutes later, when Mark came out from the room at the back, he saw Emma again at the storage room, her back at him. She was so engrossed at staring at the painting that he didn't bothered to call her out. The room was covered in darkness now but Emma switched the light on by the door illuminating the portrait and part of her face.

Mark moved his eyes back at the portrait, fully understanding Emma's fascination with the painting. It was beyond doubt that the woman was exquisitely made. He did wanted to showcase her among his prized collection but he can't until he knew more about it. He reminded himself to call the owner by the morrow.

From where he stood, he saw Emma's reflection from the framed glass as she gazed in wonder at the painting. She had this expression of admiration, of bewilderment, and of something else but for the life of him, Mark can't seem to put a finger on it.

"And you got yourself another mysterious woman Em?"

Emma jumped, startled by the voice and Mark's presence. "The hell Mark, are you trying to freak me out?"

Mark's laughter echoed around the room. He put his right arm around her when he reached her side. "Sorry love" he squeezed. "I forgot that you haven't seen me standing right behind you. I was quite enjoying the beauty of her from where I stood too." He explained.

"What are you doing back here anyway?" he asked

Emma just shrugged and didn't answer. She got nothing to offer anyway but she knew Mark would understand.

Emma sighed loudly "This one deserves all the attention. At least mine. You know I'm no expert but geeshh, this one is a winner"

"I know, I know" Mark assured her. "No need to convince me"

"Just saying" she began again…

"Got it. And you young woman needs to go home, it's getting late"

"Hey! I can stay a bit more and help, maybe?"

"Em, sad to tell you the hard truth but I know I won't be getting any help from you at all, the way you keep sneaking in here…" He joked

Emma flushed and laughed with him "Sorry about that, there's just something about this that keeps me going…" she said, trying to explain but she's lost for words.

"No need to explain but I just received the shipments, and **I** think I'm ready to go home now too." Mark said, "So if you're done with the ogling, I need you to go back home, k? There's always tomorrow."

With a defeated look, Emma nodded and gave him an apologetic smile.

"OK, and sorry about me barging in here unannounced. I'll see you tomorrow I suppose?"

"Of course you will. Bye, kiddo" Mark leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, off you go!"

With a last smile, Emma glanced back at her mysterious woman, brows knitting, tore herself away and left.

Smiling, an idea came to Mark as he watched her friend leaves.

* * *

The trip to the shop didn't help at all. Not at all.

As usual, the mystery behind things that were happening to her lately was beyond imaginable. Emma became aware of the annoying sensation all over again in the pit of her stomach, to the point that she couldn't focus on anything else. She would have to get up and pace around the room to make the feeling go away.

Unfortunately, the moment she settled back, the sensation would return. And, with it…the restlessness.

Emma was again staring into nothingness when she was startled by the knock on her door. She quickly ran to it, quite glad by the interruption, but wondered as to who could be calling at this late at night.

"Booh!" Mark playfully greeted her when she opened the door.

"Hey!" she greeted back with a grin, feigning surprise "What's up? Anything wrong?" she inquired

"No, can I not come over and say hi anymore?" Mark acted hurt by this

"Yeah but we were just together a couple of hours ago." an eyebrow raising, "That was a serious question, buddy. I thought you're going home?"

"I was but then I came up with this greatest idea EVER. So once I finished over there" he pointed at the gallery "I did this…"

Mark leaned over the side of the door and pulled-out a carefully wrapped frame and presented it to her.

"Voilà!" He grinned. "The way you reacted to her earlier, I just knew you will be losing sleep over it. So instead of you trying to break into my gallery, I've decided to loan her to you for the night or until I'm ready to showcase her."

Mark stared, waiting for her reaction. Emma's mouth hanged open and obviously lost for words. Her eyes are starting to tear-up and her face flushed, apparently trying to contain the glee. She swallowed and put on a straight face.

"Really? Why would you say that?"

Mark laughed, not at all convinced by the "innocent" question she's trying to convey.

"You've got to be kidding me. Are you seriously asking me this question right now?" he played along "OK, Did you happened to see yourself ogling at her the rest of the day?" Mark asked and when she shook her head, he nodded.

"Exactly, so I rest my case."

Instead of responding, Emma moved forward and hugged her friend.

"Thank you! You know me so well, I'm scared" she playfully slapped his arms. "Won't you come in?"

"Sorry, I can't stay." Mark stepped inside, set the frame down just behind the door, leaning it on the wall.

"You know I'm running late so I'll just see you tomorrow, k?"

"Of course, goodbye then" She gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Bye. Enjoy her" he winked and walked out to leave.

Emma closed the door and stared at the frame. The annoying sensation was coming back again, this time of restlessness and…vague desire.

* * *

Ignoring the frame that leaned on her wall, she tried to go about her night, convincing herself that whatever she's going through was not at all "frame" related, and if she went back to normal routine, then she'll be fine.

Yes, that's it. So she went about her ways, tidied the kitchen up, took the garbage out, did her normal bathroom routine and prepared herself for bed with a book, never realizing that throughout the process, she would pause or go out of her way just to steal a glance or two at her guest.

Her pretense however did not last long.

Finally, as she cannot take it anymore, she threw the book she was reading and got up to fetch her mysterious friend. If this woman is going to make her lose sleep tonight, she might as well share the room with her.

She didn't bothered to put on a robe as she got up. She was quite accustomed to walking around her apartment with just the tank top and her panties on, and it's not like anyone will see her nor was she expecting anyone else to come over this late at night.

So, she went to the hallway and picked up the painting with both hands and carried it back to her bedroom. Carefully putting her prized acquisition on top of her bed. She stared at it for a few moments, lost in thought and unconsciously chewing her lips.

"OK, what am I going to do with you?"

She picked up the painting and carefully unwrapped the bubble sheet Mark used for protection and stared upon the vision once more. She had seen her a few times and yet each time her eyes lays upon her beauty, it's like seeing her for the first time. She was dumbstruck all over again.

"What the hell is this? Fangirling?" she sighed in confused defeat.

"Now, where should I put you?" She surveyed around the room and spotted the frame just above her TV set. It was an abstract painting given by Mark as her Christmas gift last year. Though she never did understood what it was, the gorgeous and vibrant color somehow energized her every time she woke up. So she hanged it on the wall opposite her bed. Normally, it's the first thing she ssaw when she woke up and the last one she stared at when she went to bed. She smiled.

"And that is where you, m'lady, is going to be" she whispered.

She hurriedly crossed the room to remove the abstract painting and replaced it with her precious frame. She moved a few steps back, away from it with a grin plastered on her face and admired the way the moonshine brightened her even more. She didn't know why but she's pretty pleased that she found a good spot for her Galatea.

"Galatea…" Emma murmured with harried breath. She came to call her that. The name came to mind on her third trip to see her today. There she stood, looking down upon her silently, and Emma stared back at her. She's pretty sure the sun had shed a flush of life upon her cheeks, for she glowed with life even more than when she saw her last.

Like in a dream, she envisioned Galatea lifting her head to look at her eyes then she will raise her hand and ask her for support, then she'll gracefully step out beyond the border of the frame, come to her and settle those lovely arms upon her in a warm embrace.

"Anytime now…" Emma chuckles when she snapped out of her daydreams.

She felt like Pygmalion to her Galatea.

She recalled the love story of those two lovebirds. Her mother used to tell her bedtime stories about the Greek and Roman mythologies, even those of Nordic ones. It was her preference of choice than the regular fairy tales. One may argue that storytelling Greek fables may sound weird to some extent but they cannot deny that those stories are also fantastical and magical in nature. She told Emma that all of those stories, including those regular fairy tales, came to them mere mortals, from different parts of the world and from once upon a time. She was also made to understand at a young age, that not all stories ends in happy ending. Some of them actually ended in tragedies.

However she recalled that Pygmalion and Galatea had a happy one.

The story goes that Pygmalion, a renowned master for his exquisite carving skills, carved a statue out of ivory resembling a perfect maiden. He made it so resplendent and delicate that no maiden could compare with it. The statue was divinely made he would often come to her and touch her cold face and hands to reassure himself that she is not living. The time came when Pygmalion felt that he loved her more than anything in the world, and thought of her no longer as a statue but as his life's companion. Everyday he humbly prays that if the Gods can give all things, could they not grant him a wife like the ivory maiden? Finally, the day came when Aphrodite heard his fervent prayers and granted her devoted son's request. That night, when Pygmalion came to his Galatea with a kiss, as was his custom, she came to life and returned his kiss with warmth and love.

She remembered how she was so amazed by that story that she asked her mother to buy her some clay the following day so she can make a Galatea for herself. And that she will pray to Aphrodite for her to come alive so she can have a sister to play with. Of course, her mom would just laugh it off, give her a tight hug and appreciate the clay image of a snowman that she'd made.

Her childish chuckles brought her thoughts back to the present, she stared intently back at her own Galatea and sighed. Though she's not the maker of this beautiful creation before her, she can relate herself to the man and understood exactly what he was going through. She shared the same sentiment and foolish heart's wishes. As she stared on, the whims growing hungrily upon her like an enchantment.

Should she pray for whatever God there is for her to come alive? Could she be the making of a Pygmalion?

"Fall in love with a creation of my make-believe?" Emma choked and shook her head in denial but somewhere deep inside her screamed it somehow to be true.

She moved back to her bed, lay down and closed her eyes. She prayed instead that sleep comes to her sooner and that she wakes up with all these being just a dream.

Disillusionment is not necessarily bad, she supposed.

In the dark of the night and the silence of her room, as Emma succumbs to the much-needed sleep and peace, the ring in her necklace glows purple once more.

* * *

**A/N1**: Again, thank you for the reviews. I know it takes only a few minutes to read this but it took me days to write it (6500 words!). Give me a sign! Review or whatever. J My muse for the portrait is the avatar/image for this fanfic. I don't think I described her well enough so I am giving you the image instead.

**A/N2:** Happy New Year! Advance notice that the next chapter (if any) maybe a bit delayed. The New Year is here and I need to focus on some stuff. I'll try to update as soon as I can, even if they're mini ones.


	4. Chapter 4- The Witching Hour

**Disclaimer:** Yes, yes, yes! nothing about OUAT is mine.

**Warning:** Changed the rating to T. You know why we do such things right?

* * *

_"The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment in the middle of the night when every child and every grown-up was in a deep, deep sleep, and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world all to themselves." – Roald Dahl_

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

Emma woke to the distant rumbling of thunder. It took her several moments to orient herself to the darkness of her room, eyes finally resting on the alarm clock by her bed as its light caught her attention. She squinted and tried to focus on the blinking red numbers.

00:15 A.M.

"Midnight?" She searched for the window, eyes trying to blink the sleep away and saw that she lost her moonlight. She could smell the nighttime summer rain through the open window, clean and natural and she knew the world would be sparkling when the sun finally rose by the morrow. A soft gust of wind wisped through it, setting the curtains to motion. For a short moment, Emma watched as the ripples of the curtains swayed at the play of the wind.

Her mind told her to get up ad close the window for the chill of the evening wind made the room's temperature colder. But her body kept her rooted to the bed, she's quite comfortably warm despite the breeze. Sleep was still heavy on her and it's winning as the seconds' ticked by. Her eyes slowly closed…

As she started to drift off, she felt a sudden shifting of someone's body against her. The movement was so gentle, she would have thought she was dreaming if not for the soft sigh that came after it.

Emma's eyes flew opened. Her mind jump-started, brain suddenly awake.

Though startled by the realization, she still didn't move. She swallowed hard, heart fluttering in her chest as she stared down at the woman sleeping soundly in her arms.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she stared at the figure nestled deep in her body. She was half on top of her, her head tucked snugly under Emma's chin, pillowed comfortably on her chest and her hair hanged freely, tickling Emma's side. Her left arm was draped loosely on Emma's ribcage, just below and dangerously close to her breast. Her eyes moved further and saw her leg resting comfortably between Emma's thighs. Her mouth formed into silent "oh", she slowly sucked in cold air and felt her own nipples tightened underneath her thin tank top.

She distracted her thoughts away from her betraying body and continued her searched. She noticed how her own left arm wrapped possessively around the woman's shoulder, instinctively keeping her close and warm.

Her brows knitted, questions piled up in her head as the seconds ticked by.

She inhaled and caught the sweet fragrance of her hair, filling her nostrils teasingly. She listened to her deep and even breathing, the rhythm of a peaceful slumber that effectively pinned Emma to the bed.

She rested her head back to the pillow and closed her eyes. She racked her brain for any explanation to the meaning of all these. She's no prude but it's not her custom to bring unknown women to her bed, nor get too drunk and not know whom she's sleeping with.

Her eyes flew opened once again, as the memories of last night came rushing back to her, the gallery, the obsession with the painting, the wishful thinking, her heart's desire….

Emma stifled a gasp in realization, her wishful thinking!

"Galatea!" she muttered, shocked as the only possible explanation presented itself before her.

She glanced immediately at the foot of the bed, searching the wall in front of her. There in the darkness, the painting hangs, the moonlit frame however was no more for it was replaced by the darkness of the night. As she stared intently, she saw an eerie fading purple glow surrounding the frame. She felt chills ran down her spine. Unsure of what she saw, she blinked a few times and stared once more, eyes focusing and adjusting again to the darkness.

But she only saw the silhouette of the portrait. No evidence of any glow.

She sighed and pondered as to what the hell is up with her and purple glows these days? She shook her head in frustration.

She heard an approaching car from the street outside and as it slowly advances, its bright round light gradually illuminated the room, bathing it with much needed light. The spotlight-like brightness fell first upon the portrait and it bounced right off of the glass, the flash momentarily blinded Emma's vision. She blinked it away, re-focused her gaze and was startled to see that the image is no longer there. It's nothing but a blank, white canvass.

Emma's heart pounded. She instantaneously gazed back at the figure in her arms, taking advantage of the soft light to gaze upon her guest once more, this time paying attention to details. She stared back and forth between the blank canvass and the woman in her arms, noting in memory the resemblance of the woman in the painting and the one in her arms. Exhaling slowly, the answers dawned on her and she felt the hair at the back of her neck stood up.

It was her…her Galatea, warm and breathing steadily in her embrace.

She remembered praying for sleep last night but she supposed her heart silently wished for her Galatea to come alive? She's not exactly complaining but whatever Gods maybe out there, she supposed she must have done something good for her wishes to be granted.

As Emma had no other plausible explanation for this and no matter how surreal it was she had no choice but to accept the truth before her. Without realizing it, Emma's hold tightened, unconsciously protecting the woman from her thoughts.

Somehow joy replaced fear in a manner of seconds. She does not care anymore how it came to be, she would just take this chance bestowed upon her and enjoy this moment of… bliss.

The spot light continued to move, from the frame to the foot of the bed, falling at the woman's bare feet, up her folded leg, noting the soft gauzy veil that cloaked her being. Emma knew that she's naked beneath it…she paused her train of thoughts. That realization was not helping her at all, right now.

She stared at the arm lying across her body, its unblemished creamy skin covered very lightly by blondish hair. She swallowed hard, moving her eyes to gaze upon the beautiful face that rested on her chest. The car's temporary light cast soft shadows, intensifying the angles and planes of the woman's cheeks and the fullness of her lips. She resisted the urge to wake her just to glimpse at her glistening brown eyes.

_She's even more exquisite in person than she was at the painting. _

Emma found her tongue daubing at her own lips as she tried not to think about how sweet the other woman's lips would be, how incredible it would be to devour those lips with her.

And how intoxicating their first kiss could be…

The woman shifted in her sleep, pressing her knee firmly into her groin. Emma gasped in surprise by her own wetness. She looked back at her bed companion and exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw how deeply she sleeps, thankful that the woman hadn't woken up by the dampness on her bare knees that must surely have soaked through the thin silk of her panties.

She couldn't remember ever having been aroused just by being near someone. And the woman wasn't even trying. She silently cursed, made a frustrated face and hated how her body could betray her like this.

She stared back at the beautiful face; Emma gazed at her eyes, admiring how her long dark lashes curls softly around her lid. Her finger reached out on its own accord and traced the woman's lower lip gently. She imagined her tongue tracing across it instead.

By her soft caress the woman stirred, though still asleep she raised her head up a bit when she moved and instinctively wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Emma watched transfixed by the unintentional seduction, but the more she stared at her now wet lips the more Emma can't resist to kiss it.

Then she did it again. This time, she ran her tongue in circle to wet both drying lips.

Emma then lost all sense of control, threw caution at the wind and found herself leaning forward, to steal a gentle kiss, and a peck at the corner of the woman's mouth. Careful not to wake her, Emma did not pull away immediately but let her lips stay on top of the soft lips instead, inhaling her scent, savoring the moment. She felt her warm breath on her cheeks as the woman exhaled faintly.

Emma smiled contentedly at this innocent moment, unwilling to let go. But let go she must. As she tenderly pulled away from the kiss, her stare never leaving the spot where her lips just left.

She slowly released a deep sigh of contentment and shifted her gaze back at the woman's eyes.

As the car's light slowly faded, before shrouding the room back in darkness, Emma caught her Galatea's deep brown eyes, silently staring back at her.

* * *

Emma's body shot up in bed, eyes closed and her heart pounding mercilessly against her ribcage.

She felt so guilty for stealing that kiss, let alone being caught red-handed for the deed. She struggled to catch up with her breath and tried to calm herself down, her hand involuntarily searched for the woman that lay beside her.

But no one was there. Not even a trace of lingering warmth as her hand fell on empty cold sheets.

Surprised, she struggled to open her eyes and looked back at the bed, her mind wondering, questioning as to why the woman in her arms is now missing.

_What the hell?_

It took several moments to orient her senses back to her surrounding, only to find herself in the darkness of her room. She squinted, eyes trying to get accustomed to the room.

_Didn't she just do this earlier?_

When she heard the sound of a distant rumbling of thunder, she turned suddenly in searched of the window. Resting her eyes upon it, she saw the moon glowed dimly and the moonlight trickled on the windowsill. A gust of wind blew through the window, setting the curtain to sway in unison to the breeze. She shivered when the wind bounced in her direction.

_Wait…wasn't it already raining?_

She searched the room once more and her gaze fell upon the red glow of the bedside clock.

00:15 A.M.

Emma blinked. Once. Twice. She shook her head for good measure and stared back at the clock, her mind finally waking up.

"Midnight!" she exclaimed, realization apparent in her eyes. Heart pounding, it finally dawned on Emma that right now is her reality and she's just slowly emerging from her dreams.

She sighed loudly and brought her hands to cover her face, rubbing it up and down in frustration.

_No. No way! That can't be just a dream?_

She closed her eyes and the vision of her Galatea came unbidden to her mind. It's filled with the memories of her warm embrace, the soft body against her and the silent brown eyes staring back at her, probing. It was the last vision she saw before she woke up.

_Oh god! Would it be too bad to let her finish her dreams at least?_

Everything about her dream felt so damn real. And what's unfolding right now is a déjà vu, she convinced herself as her heart won't accept what's happening but her mind was willing her to face reality.

She sighed in defeat. Of course it's a dream, she can't possibly expect for something inanimate to come alive. She prayed for sleep last night anyway, not a bed companion. That, she specifically remembered.

Or did she?

She got up and turned the lamp light on. She hugged herself closer as the night breeze turned the room to a freezing cold. She didn't even bothered to put on a robe and instead walked directly to the portrait, and stopped just in front the object of her lucid dreams.

She was kind of hoping that it'll be a blank canvass but no, she's there, as she was last night. Her gaze seemed to focus on Emma but this time, Emma felt that her smile seemed to mock her though. Emma shook her head in annoyance and failed to hide her disappointment.

She felt dejected.

She wondered why couldn't something so good be hers even just for a little while? Even in dreams, why couldn't it have lasted a bit longer? Why the need to deny her such things and forced her to wake up from this miserable reality. Tried as she might, no apparent answer befitted this kind of questioning.

She felt cheated anyway.

Sighing deeply, she focused her thoughts back to the woman and wondered why in such short period of time, this creation before her managed to turn her world upside-down. And she's just a darn picture.

How can such an inanimate creation evoked mixed feelings within her and disturb her so much, to the point where she was caught unaware by the passion inside of her.

"Why do you affect me so much?" she moaned

She only got questions on top of another and no matter how hard she racked her brain out, answers eluded her.

Her mystery intensified.

Right there and then, Emma vowed that as soon as she could do it, she would search for her. No matter what the odds are, she will find out the mystery behind this beautiful creature. And she will not rest until she gets some answers.

She smiled at the challenge she presented for herself and it was less than a heartbeat later that she realized just how true those words were, how deeply they ran for her.

"I'm gonna get you" she promised and laughed at the absurdity of her threat.

With a final glance at the woman's cryptic smile, Emma turned away from her obsession and moved back to her bed only to stop dead in her tracks, the laughter died gurgling in her throat, as she stared at her supposedly empty bed.

Blood drained from her face and she quickly stared back at the portrait behind her, searching. She was too engrossed by the impact of her dreams and the woman's mocking smile that she failed to notice what's missing in the complete picture.

She moved he gaze back at the mystery before her, shocked and lost for words, her eyes started to well up.

There lying on top her pillow, glowing bright red against the whiteness of her sheets, sat a long stemmed rose…breathing with life.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading and if you're still interested in reading/following. You know the drill, please make a sign and make your presence felt. Next chapter, Emma searches for our Galatea. :D


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